


Rewrite

by Sneakyfox55



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Future Romance, Murder, Mystery, Psychological Horror, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Slow Burn, Some Plot, Sort Of, To An Extent, evil reader, nothing makes sense, probably, reader has a nickname
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneakyfox55/pseuds/Sneakyfox55
Summary: You don't belong here.. . .Neither do they.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse for this other than i wanted to do something sort-of-horror-themed-but-not-really so u m,
> 
> also sorry the first one's super short, it's just the introduction--

You wake.

. . .

It’s rather dark here, isn’t it?

Maybe the sun has burnt out, or....

Perhaps someone stole your eyes. Perhaps you tore them off yourself, or maybe...

Eh. No matter.

You don’t really have it in you to question. You are rather tired. Quite honestly you’d give anything to go back to sleep, but.

Seems fate has other plans in mind.

You don’t recall much of anything of the time Before—you think you _might_ have been human long ago, and had a life somewhere, but it’s too far to grasp. ...You most certainly _feel_ human, at least; your head feels like it will rip itself in two, really.

Eventually you _think_ you fall asleep—it’s hard to tell. Your dreams are fitful, and your nightmares seem like they’ve been cherry-picked from the deepest parts of your subconscious. You see images between dreams and nightmares alike: glimpses of the sun, of flowers. People you don’t recognize, people you don’t think are actually _people_.

There’s a child somewhere. They’re helping the non-people, you think. That is what you pick up anyway; they’re helping them, and the very last thing you see them reach is the sun, but you’re not sure how that makes a lick of sense.

Where is this? Where are you? What does any of it have to _do_ with you, for that matter?

You try to recall why you might be here, or any sort of context for this, but you can’t. On all accounts you want _out_. You don’t want this darkness, or whatever it is—you want light. You want the sun.

So you think about that.

You think about it, and suddenly...

.

.

.

They spot you before you can spot them.

They look at you, and freeze, surprise flitting across their vacant expression.

You look down, at _you_ —you realize you have a form now. You have fingers, you have legs, and when you reach up you feel hair, on your head. You’re human again.

And just as quickly, you realize no one else can see you—just your fellow human.

The non-people talk to them, asking them on what they are looking at, for you don’t exist for them. The non-people’s faces are obscured by static. You can’t truly see them either.

You can’t exist.

You don’t belong.

....

But you will.

You make that promise to yourself.

You make that promise,

and you rewrite the other human’s existence.


	2. On the Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's you, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is fine :)

You wake, and...

It’s not dark anymore. You see the sun streaming through windows, hear birds tweeting from outside in branches.

When you glance down at yourself, you see you’re lying on a twin-sized bed, with cozy red blankets and pale golden sheets beneath. And you’ve taken a form—you’re officially human now.

You flex your fingers idly, blinking tiredly through the sunlit daze of morning.

For once in your life, you feel _rested_. You’ve slept for too long, and now...

It’s like you _belong_ here.

And you do.

This is what the universe has chosen for you. Maybe Fate itself. Everything has led up to this. You’re on the Surface again.

You are alive.

And you feel _great_.

Smiling to yourself, you kick back the covers and rise to your feet, stretching your limbs out. Gods, you can’t remember the last time you’d been able to do that—now it feels like a dream come true. You’re finally corporeal, finally _real_ again.

Your bedroom itself looks quaint enough; tidy, with warm colors and a fluffy carpet. It is quite nice--but you still aren’t sure what you even _look_ like, and your curiosity has peaked to the point that you’d much rather find _that_ out rather than bide your time here.

You open your door and step into the hallway, finding the atmosphere to be just as pleasant as where you woke up. Very home-y, though, you suppose that’s to be expected if this is someone’s _home_. Thankfully the bathroom is just a few rooms down from yours, and you make your way over.

It’s a bit colder here, color-wise and otherwise. The mirror above the sink doesn’t take up very much of the wall at all, but enough for you to see your being.

...Huh.

You...

Can’t remember if you look any differently currently than you did Before.

Interesting, in any case.

...

Now...

Who else lives here...?

That question is answered when you descend a set of stairs to a living room, and see a tall goat-like figure tending to something in the kitchen.

She looks familiar; probably one of the non-people you saw earlier. A “monster,” you believe they’re called..

You walk closer.

“Hello,” you greet the non-human politely, and she turns to you, looking startled.

“Oh—! Good morning, my...”

She smiles warmly, at first. It falters.

There’s something like confusion in her gaze. ~~Fear-driven worry, perhaps.~~

And then there isn’t.

Then, for an instance, it’s almost like she glitches in and out of reality—a cloud of static blocking out her eyes.

Her smile returns when you blink.

“It is nice to see you are awake. Beautiful day, is it not?”

“Yes,” you agree, unbothered. “Is breakfast almost ready?”

“Of course!”

She leads you to the living room, indicating for you to sit down as she says, “Wait here, I shall bring it to you.”

That’s very nice of her. You don’t complain and oblige, neatly brushing off your clothes as you settle in one of the wooden chairs.

A few moments later she returns, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of you. It smells delicious—when was the last time you ate something...?

“Thanks,” you glance at her, offering a grateful grin, and she smiles back, sitting down across from you with a plate she’s fixed for herself.

Before you can spoon up the eggs, she speaks again:

“I... Do apologize, but,” she fiddles with her hands, looking just a bit troubled again. “I... Seem to have forgotten your name, my child. I am very sorry. What was it again, if I may ask...?”

...Oh.

. . .

You can’t really remember your name.

...Hmm.

New start, new you, you guess.

You say the first name that pops into your head—that is, the first one that actually _sounds_ like an okay one.

“You can just call me Holly,” you tell the goat monster, still with a pleasant smile stretched on your face. “What’s yours?”

“Oh, my name is Toriel,” she tells you. “...I suppose I never told you that. Odd...”

“Eh. Don’t worry about it.”

You’ve got time to get to know her; all of your so-called “friends,” in fact. (Even if you’ve seemed to replace someone they already know...)

After all—you have been given a second chance.

In celebration of your achievements, you stuff the food into your mouth, every so often conversing with the monster in front of you.

And you can’t help the smirk that twists your mouth all the while.

_Nothing to worry about, indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> ~~50th fic yaya~~


End file.
